


Growing Pains

by GiantPurpleCephalopod



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: De Aged Fic, Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-03
Updated: 2015-09-11
Packaged: 2018-04-18 19:26:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4717685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GiantPurpleCephalopod/pseuds/GiantPurpleCephalopod
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spock is caught up in a freak transporter accident (my favourite) that transforms him into an infant.  So ... what now?</p><p>Currently a Work In Progress</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey there! So I was going through old bits and pieces on my computer, because I've been sick again and it put me in a bit of a writing slump. I guess I was hoping to get a bit of inspiration or something? Anyway, I found this story, partly done, and decided that I might as well start posting it to try and light a bit of a fire under my butt to get in and get the writing ball rolling. I do apologise if it's a bit short, chapters should hopefully get longer as we get more into the meat of things. Any and all feedback/comments are appreciated.
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own Star Trek, or hold any rights pertaining to the characters and/or universe contained therein. I do not intend to infringe upon anyone else's rights or to cause any offence by my use of aforementioned universe and characters in this work of fan fiction.

Initially, the newly discovered class M planet seemed to be an idyllic place for the crew of the U.S.S. _Enterprise_ to get some much needed R &R. It was approximately the same distance from its own star as Earth is from Sol. The climate was temperate. For the adventurous, there were vast forests of ‘purple-wood’ trees just waiting to be explored, or, for those more inclined to leisure, the landing party had beamed down right into a picturesque meadow of lavender grass, an ice-blue stream gurgling and chuckling merrily through it, and thousands upon thousands of bulbous yellow flowers swaying in the gentle breeze. It had _seemed_ perfect - right up until a minute ago.

As he looked up at the rapidly approaching ion storm, complete with murderous looking roiling clouds and sudden sharp stabs of lightning, Captain James T. Kirk was very glad that he had decided to hold off on authorising shore leave until the landing party could more thoroughly investigate the planet.

Commander Spock appeared as if by magic beside him, pointing his tricorder in the direction of the approaching storm front. The readings it gave him would have caused anyone else to frown. “Captain,” he advised in short, clipped tones, “the approaching ion storm contains numerous magnetic anomalies. It would be exceedingly dangerous to remain here any longer.”

“I hear you, Mr Spock,” Kirk replied, already flipping open his communicator. _“Kirk to_ Enterprise _\- immediate beam up needed for all members of the landing party.”_ The thick strains of the Chief Engineer’s familiar Scottish brogue were barely recognisable through all the crackling and distortion on the comm channel. _“Aye, sir. Stand by to beam up.”_

Swirling golden light enveloped the four ensigns - two science, two security - that made up the rest of the landing party. Seconds later they were gone - safely back aboard the _Enterprise_. At that moment thunder _boomed_ alarmingly, seeming to be directly overhead. It sounded like some great, cosmic giant had clanged a pair of cymbals - or perhaps beaten a giant drum - right above them. Immediately afterwards a bolt of lightning speared down, striking a tree mere metres away. The tree exploded with a noise to rival the thunder, sending sharp slivers of sizzling wood flying in all directions. The stench of hot tin and charcoal filled the air.

Kirk had been unable to help a little jump of startlement when the lightning hit, ending up pressed right back against Spock. The Vulcan squeezed his shoulder reassuringly, answering his slight embarrassed flush with a fond look that said: _Don’t worry, Jim - your secret is safe with me._

His heart still beating faster than it should be, Kirk raised his communicator once more. _“We could really use that beam up now, Scotty.”_

 _“Ah’m havin’ a wee bit ‘o trouble up here, sir.”_ It was barely possible to make out what the engineer was saying, the interference was so bad. _“The ion storm is playin’ havoc with the transporter circuits. I can only take ye one at a time.”_

Kirk opened his mouth to tell Scotty to beam Spock up first, but the Vulcan was faster. _“Mr Scott,”_ he leaned over his captain’s shoulder, speaking into the communicator. _“Please beam the Captain up now.”_

Instantly, Kirk’s field of vision was assailed by swirling gold. The sensation of being disassembled into individual molecules and then put back together again was something akin to falling. Maybe it was just his imagination, but Kirk could have sworn that it took longer than usual. When he finally re-materialised on the pad his head was spinning slightly, and his legs felt weak and rubbery. He wobbled dangerously as he tried to step down off the pad. One of the security ensigns - Kirk thought his name was O’Donnell, but he couldn’t quite seem to remember- leapt forward to steady him.

“Sss-scotty.” Kirk felt like he’d drunk a whole bottle of Romulan Ale. “Where’s Spock? Have you got him?”

“Beaming him up now, sir.” The Chief Engineer’s features were locked in a scowl of concentration as he worked the controls. “He’s in the buffer … Ah’m having the same trouble I had getting ye through, sir … just a second …”

All of a sudden there was a _bang!_ and sparks began flying from the control console. The lights in the transporter room began flickering wildly. More sparks exploded from the transporter pad itself, along with a shower of glass from its ceiling. Scotty was shouting something at the red-shirt next to him, but Kirk couldn’t make out the words over all the other noise in the room. The two men’s fingers were flying frantically over the controls …

One last shower of sparks fell from the pad and then - finally - the familiar golden, swirling light started forming. Kirk exhaled the breath he hadn’t realised he was holding, gently extricating himself from the security ensign’s grasp - not that he wasn’t grateful to the man from stopping him from falling flat on his face in front of everybody. He couldn’t relax yet, though, not until he knew that Spock was safe. He watched the light coalescing with baited breath, hands unconsciously clenching into fists at his sides. _Come on, Spock … come on!_

Though it would have been natural for a captain to be concerned for his first officer’s well being, or a man for his friend’s, the truth was that Spock was more than that to Kirk. Ever since Gamma Trianguli VI, when Spock had thrown himself in front of the poison barbs meant for Kirk, things had taken a turn for the … complicated. They’d never sat down and defined what they were to each other - they just … were.

Finally, a shape materialised on the transporter pad. A collective gasp of dismay tore around the room. Instead of a tall, Vulcan science officer standing on the pad there was only a little pile of clothing.

Kirk staggered forward. His mind was curiously blank - as if it couldn’t comprehend what his eyes were seeing. He reached out a hand for the pile of clothing, as if he could pull aside Spock’s science blues and somehow - miraculously - the Vulcan would be revealed.

His fingertips were barely an inch away from the soft blue fabric when it twitched.

Kirk froze instantly. His heart was pounding like a drum in his chest, the blood rushing in his ears in step with it. “Get Dr McCoy,” he heard himself rasp out, but his voice sounded strange and far away. He was dimly aware of hurried footsteps, and someone speaking into the comm. Caught between desperate hope and mind-numbing terror, he reached out and carefully pulled the shirt aside.

There, nestled comfortably amidst the tangle of clothing, regarding him with eyes as dark as the vaults of space, was a tiny newborn baby. A newborn baby with a healthy green flush to its skin and tiny, elfin ears.


	2. Chapter 2

Sickbay was quiet, the biobeds empty. The air smelled sharply of antiseptic. Kirk sat on the edge of a bed, Dr McCoy standing at his side, whilst both men watched Nurse Chapel give the infant Spock a bottle. It had taken Scotty quite some time to work out and input the new code for one into the synthesizer. The head nurse had been in a state of doe-eyed infatuation since the moment McCoy had placed the blue-shirt wrapped bundle in her arms.

“Well, as far as I can figure, he’s perfectly healthy,” Dr McCoy shrugged helplessly as he scrolled through the results on the padd in his hands. “Of course, I don’t know as much as I would like about what’s considered normal for a baby Vulcan, so I’ve sent a missive to Vulcan explaining what’s happened and requesting information, but this far into deep space it’ll probably take a week to get there, and another week for their reply to get back.”

Kirk dropped his face into his hands tiredly, rubbing at his temples. He had one doozy of a headache starting. _Spock was a baby …_ Spock _was a baby …_

“Have you informed Spock’s parents yet, Jim?”

Kirk shook his head. “I don’t really want to until I have all the facts to give them - can you imagine, Bones? _Dear Mr and Mrs Sarek - I regretfully inform you that due to a transporter accident caused by a circuit overload during an anomalous ion storm your adult son has been re-materialised as a newborn infant. We don’t fully understand why, we don’t know if we can fix it, but we are very sorry.”_

“Calm down, Jim - there’s no need to yell.”

“Sorry, Bones,” Kirk sighed, shamefaced, and ran a hand through his hair. “I’m not dealing with this very well, am I?”

The expression in the old country doctor’s faded blue eyes was one of pity as he regarded his captain and friend. Of the more than 400 crew aboard the _Enterprise_ , McCoy was the only one who knew the truth about the relationship between captain and first officer. Without a word from Kirk, the CMO reached into his pocket and handed his captain an analgesic pill.

“In medicine, you have to learn to appreciate small miracles. Spock’s a baby, but he’s alive and he’s unhurt. We have the best engineer in the fleet working on a way to make this right. Until Scotty tells me otherwise I refuse to believe that this can’t be fixed. If new problems crop up, well, we’ll just have to deal with those as we come to them.”

Kirk stared down at the tiny blue pill lying on his palm. “But Bones … what if … what if he’s _gone_? He’s alive, but is his memory intact? His personality? We’re all products of the experiences that shape us - what if we we _can’t_ fix this, and he has to grow up all over again? He might turn out to be nothing like the Spock that we know and-” A lump formed in Kirk’s throat, and he trailed off, leaving the word _love_ left unsaid.

McCoy laid a comforting hand on Kirk’s shoulder. “You can’t let yourself think like that, Jim. It’ll turn out alright. I can feel it. Now, how’s about you have a hold of the baby hobgoblin? I reckon it’ll make you feel better.”

Before Kirk could protest, McCoy beckoned over a smiling Chapel - who had just finished giving Spock a burp- and the baby Vulcan was placed gently into his arms. Kirk felt a swell of panic - _Spock was so tiny and fragile now - what if he dropped him? what if … ? -_ that slowly began to ebb as he cradled his infant first officer close against his chest. Baby Spock regarded him solemnly, occasionally blinking in a slow, sleepy manner.

McCoy patted him encouragingly on the shoulder, but at that moment both he and Chapel were drawn away by the soft _hiss_ of the Sickbay doors and a trio of redshirts, two supporting the third between them.

Kirk swallowed, took a calming breath. He didn’t have much experience with babies - but he did remember holding his nephew when he had been this small, during a brief visit home to Iowa to meet the newest addition to the family. Drawing on that memory, he rocked Spock back and forth slightly in his arms, patting the Vulcan’s improvised nappy gently, creating a soothing, rhythmic _thud, thud_ to mimic a heartbeat, just like Aurelan had shown him all those years ago. _Now, what else did you do when holding babies? Ah, yes …_ Softly, because he didn’t really want Dr McCoy or Nurse Chapel to hear him as they bustled about the new patient - Bones would never let him live it down he was sure - Kirk started to sing.

_Row, row, row your boat, Gently down the stream ..._

The baby Vulcan squirmed, then yawned hugely. As Kirk watched him wriggle and blink slowly, he realised that Spock was right on the cusp of falling asleep. A warm flood of tenderness overcame the starship captain. He was not normally a paternal sort, but perhaps because he already bore so much affection for the Vulcan in his arms, seeing him in infant form was starting to make Kirk positively _melt_ inside. He just couldn’t help himself - with a quick glance to make sure neither Bones nor aChapel were looking his way, he leaned down and planted a gentle kiss on the baby’s forehead.

Baby Spock was so, _so_ soft. The midnight-dark fuzz that covered his head was like the finest silk, and his green-tinted skin was impossibly warm and smooth. He smelled clean and fresh, like the floral-scented bath lotion that Nurse Chapel had brought from her own quarters to wash him in. He rested his cheek on the smooth curve of the baby Vulcan’s head, cuddling him close, eyes closed, just ... breathing him in, and listening to the tiny sounds of his breathing in turn, feeling him twitch minutely, as babies were want to do.

_It will be alright. I must believe that. It_ will _be alright._

At that moment, Spock’s teeny tiny little hand reached out and pressed itsy bitsy fingers against Kirk’s cheek.

Kirk’s mind was well acquainted with Spock’s. He found himself slipping into the mind meld as easily as he might dive beneath the surface of a cold, clear pool, despite the lack of ritual words. An overwhelming sense of relief threatened to engulf him as a familiar consciousness entangled with his own.

_Jim?_

_Spock!_ Kirk was no expert on Vulcan mind-melds, usually reliant on Spock to guide him, but he snatched after the touch of that familiar consciousness against his own, fainter than it should have been, and the link between them more tenuous. _Spock, I was so worried that - never mind. Are you alright?_

_Sleep._

Kirk felt the mind meld slipping, as Spock came closer and closer to losing his struggle to stay awake. Kirk’s own mind was filling with muzzy baby thoughts, as warm and soft as a fluffy blanket … _Spock!_

Kirk was brought back to himself by a gentle touch on his shoulder. McCoy was looking down at him, his eyes shining with worry. “Is everything alright, Jim?”

He could feel himself trembling, adrenaline and a volatile mix of anxiety and euphoria pumping through his system. It took him several attempts to get his mouth to work. Finally the words came out: “Bones, he recognised me. _He recognised me!_ ”

Dr McCoy seemed to be getting somewhat blurry around the edges. Kirk blinked several times, fighting the wetness in his eyes away. He was just so _relieved_. He should not have doubted Spock - even with his molecules scrambled, he should have known that his first officer would find a way back to him. Spock had pulled off greater miracles before now. His sight finally clearing, he found himself looking at Dr McCoy’s bemused face. “He told me he wanted to sleep.”

His CMO sat on the biobed opposite, leaning forward, his hands resting on his knees. His expression was hawk-like, intense. “Jim, listen to me. This is important. Tell me what happened.”

Kirk swallowed. “Spock touched my cheek, and we entered a mind meld.”

McCoy breathed out, muttering something under his breath about Vulcan voodoo. “Are you telling me that Spock - as a baby - deliberately initiated a mind meld with you?”

The captain shook his head. “I don’t know - it might have been an accident. But when our minds brushed he recognised me. He called me by name, Bones.”

McCoy nodded, his expression softening, a smile hovering about his lips as he exhaled slowly. “Okay - that’s good. That’s very good. But it looks like he’s all plum tuckered out for now. When he wakes, we’ll try it again, see if I can get a scan of his brain activity while you do so.”

The doctor stood, gazing down at the sleeping baby Vulcan in Kirk’s arms. Then he bent down to gently stroke the back of his finger against one silky cheek. Spock made a noise somewhere between a mumble and a squeak, stirring softly. McCoy chuckled, shaking his head ruefully. “Who’d have thought a baby hobgoblin would be so cute? Don’t you ever tell him, but I’m as pleased as a pig in muck to know that he’s still in there somewhere. I’d’ve missed the pointy eared bastard.”

Spock squirmed, not-quite-awake. He reached out with one tiny, chubby fist and grasped a handful of the captain’s command gold. Sighing quietly, he settled back into a proper sleep. McCoy shook his head and chuckled again, and walked away to check on the redshirt, now safely tucked up in a biobed.

Kirk made himself comfortable on his biobed, careful not to disturb the little bundle in his arms. He lost track of time as he gazed down at the peacefully slumbering Vulcan … until a faint whiff, rank and organic, assaulted his nostrils.

“Oh - ah … Nurse Chapel! Nurse Chapel!”

The blond head nurse poked her head around the door from where she’d been busied in Doctor McCoy’s office, a smile on her face.

“Yes, Captain?”

Kirk’s cheeks were burning as he sheepishly held Spock out to her. “Um …”

Chapel shook her head, but her smile widened - tolerantly amused. She strode across the room and carefully took Spock from his arms. “Honestly, Captain … tell you what, how about I show you how to do it?”

“Ah - yes, Christine. That sounds like a very good idea.”

The expression on his face nearly made her burst out laughing. “Oh, Captain!” she chuckled. “Don’t look so frightened! It’s only a bit of poo!”

Kirk rose from the biobed, his cheeks now white-hot. He followed Nurse Chapel into the other room, muttering quietly to himself … “not _frightened_ … what an accusation! … I’ve just never changed a baby before, that’s all …”

Chapel laughed again as the office doors _hissed_ closed behind them.


	3. Chapter 3

By the time she reached the ‘change table’ (Dr McCoy’s lab table had been pressed into service) Nurse Chapel was no longer laughing. An expression of extreme confusion had settled over her doll-like features. She placed Spock carefully down on the table, cocking her head from side to side, today’s elaborate blonde curls bouncing merrily with each movement. “Doctor,” she called out, back to McCoy in the main room. “Can you come here a moment, please?”

Kirk, who’s famously steely nerve had already been severely tested this day, felt a pang of alarm. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

McCoy stepped into his office, wiping his hand on a cloth, when all of a sudden the light above the door flashed red and the alarm klaxons blared out. Baby Spock startled at the unexpected ruckus, his limbs jerking and a thin wail escaping him as his sweet features twisted in distress. Chapel immediately scooped him back into her arms, shushing: “Oh no, no, no, sweetheart, don’t cry. Don’t cry. Shh, shh, shh. It’s alright.”

The harmonic voice of Communications Officer Lt. Nyota Uhura sounded over the intercom. _Captain Kirk to the bridge. Captain Kirk, acknowledge. Captain Kirk to the bridge._

“Dammit, Jim,” McCoy grumbled as Spock’s screaming increased in volume, until it rivalled the shriek of the klaxon. “Go and find out what in blazes this is about so they’ll turn off that damn noise, will you?”

Kirk crossed the room to the intercom panel in two quick strides. “Bridge, this is Kirk. Report.”

“Civilian ship under attack, sir. It’s a freight runner, heavily damaged …” Uhura paused for a moment. “We’re coming up on her now, sir. Scans indicate two other ships in the area, yet to be visually confirmed.”

Kirk locked eyes with Dr McCoy as he told Uhura: “Alright, Lieutenant - I’ll be right up.” To McCoy and Nurse Chapel, still fruitlessly trying to calm the distraught baby Vulcan, he held his arms out in a gesture of helplessness. “I’ll get this cleared up as quickly as I can, I promise.” Then he turned and hurried out the door, running for the turbolift.

Moments later he bounded out onto the bridge. “Chekov?” he barked, his eyes fixed on the viewscreen.

“Yezzir,” the Russian Navigator’s fingers were flying over his console. “On zcreen …. now.”

The infinite darkness of space flashed up on screen, the listing bulk of the vaguely T-shaped cargo ship blocking out the stars. Thick, rust-coloured smoke trailed from one of its nacelles, of which a substantial part was missing. Circling it like vultures were two ships - their alien design reminding Kirk of a predatory bird swooping in for the strike. They were - unmistakably - Orion pirate ships.

“That’s brassy, this far from their own turf,” Kirk muttered to himself as he settled himself into his Captain’s chair, his eyes locked on the screen ahead of him. “Sulu, evasive maneuvers! Don’t let them use their numbers to their advantage. Chekov - fire! Keep them away from that ship!”

“Yessir!” the two men in front of him shouted in reply, the on-going alert bathing them in red. Everyone on the bridge braced themselves as the _Enterprise_ tilted at Sulu’s command, soaring gracefully into the fray. The high-pitched _shriek_ of the phasers rang out, as the brilliantly bright flashes of blue arced away towards the enemy ships.

The pirates were already turning away from their prey to engage the _Enterprise_. As each of their own vessels was nearly the same size as the Constitution class starship, they doubtlessly felt that the odds were in their favour. The one on the left rocked under the force of the _Enterprise’s_ phasers, it’s shields flashing and rippling beneath the strain, but the one on the right successfully dodged the incoming blast and returned in kind. The _Enterprise_ shuddered as her shields were struck.

The Orions were splitting up to flow around the _Enterprise_ now, one to the left and down low, one to the right and up high. A barrage of phaser blasts tore into the _Enterprise_

. The alarms _screamed_ as Chekov called out, “Zhields at zixty percent, zir!”

“Keep on the one on the left, Mr Chekov!” Kirk cried back. “We need to bring her down and even up this fight!”

The phasers sang out once more, as the _Enterprise_ jerked and shuddered under another incoming salvo. “Zhields at thirty percent!” Chekov shouted over the uproar, as everyone on the bridge clung grimly to their chairs or their consoles to stop from being tossed about. Kirk slammed a hand down on the intercom button in the arm of his chair. “Scotty, I need everything she’s got!”

_“Aye sir,”_ came back through the comm. Sulu wheeled the _Enterprise_ in pursuit of their chosen target. The Orion ship’s shields sparked and flashed as phaser blast after phaser blast pummelled into it’s tail …. then the shields finally dropped all together. At the same moment Chekov called out “Our zhields are at ten percent, zir!” as the second pirate pressed the attack from the other side.

“Fire!” Kirk bellowed, his voice rising above all the other clamour. Chekov pressed the button. The sound of the phasers firing rang out. Blue light flared, racing across the viewscreen. The phaser blasts struck.

Orange flame blossomed, a halo of sparks flaring outwards, as the phaser blasts ripped into the engines of the unshielded Orion ship and tore them apart, starting a chain reaction that slammed along the hull. As always, in the vacuum of space, it was deathly, eerily silent, the expected roar of chemical flame muted with nothing to carry the sound waves. Kirk blinked, and many of the other Bridge crew shielded their eyes from the intensity of the dazzling explosion.

“Quick, Sulu!” Kirk cried, leaning forward, his hands _clenched_ on the arms of his chair. “After the other one before it does the same to us!”

The captain needn’t have worried, however. The destruction of their sister ship had taken the fight out of the pirates. There was a moment where the ship seemed to streeeetch - and then it was gone, leaving a wake of sparkling blue behind it as it bailed away at warp speed.

“Should I go after them, sir?” asked Sulu, turning in his seat to look at his captain.

Kirk shook his head. “No, our shields are all but gone and we may have survivors to rescue … Uhura, notify Starfleet that one of the pirates got away - after you’ve hailed that cargo ship. Oh, and cancel that red alert.”

“Yes, Captain,” the totally unruffled communications officer responded, adjusting her headset.”

There was a pause, whilst Uhura hailed the rescued ship, and Kirk received incoming reports in regards to the damage they’d sustained. Fortunately, their shields had held out by the skin of their teeth, so there was no hull damage, but Scotty was passing on the steadily growing list of blown circuits, overheated engine parts, and malfunctioning consoles. Reports were also coming in in regards to the casualties amongst the crew- limbs broken or sprained when someone was tumbled off their feet, heads bumped, hands, fingers and arms burned, or, in a few nasty cases, scalds from steam where pipes had suddenly burst. This time around Engineering had the brunt of it, although it sounded like something nasty had happened in one of the science labs with a spilled corrosive and a crew member's bare leg.

“I’ve spoken with the captain of the freighter, sir,” Uhura interrupted. “Of the 20 crewmembers aboard six have been seriously injured, and one killed. Their captain advises that their life support systems have been damaged, and requests asylum for his crew, plus one passenger, aboard the _Enterprise_ until such time as they can affect repairs. He also advises that his ship is carrying a valuable cargo of dilithium crystals, and has asked if we can remain in the area in case the pirates return.”

“Advise their captain that my answer is ‘yes’ to both requests. I’ll meet him and his crew in the trans- oh. Is the transporter operational yet?”

Uhura checked. “No, sir. They’ll have to be shuttled across.”

“Well, then, tell them I’ll meet them in the shuttle bay.”

Ten minutes later, having sent off a report to Starfleet and updated his Captain’s Logue, Kirk straightened out his tunic as he stood waiting to welcome the first shuttle full of evacuees on board. He had tried to comm McCoy down in Sickbay to check up on Spock, but one of the nurses had answered, informing him that the CMO was in the operating room (the science officer with the spilled corrosive on her leg) and that she was unaware of any updates in Commander Spock’s condition. Though he wanted nothing more than to march down to Sickbay and check on the Vulcan himself, he had a responsibility to his ship first and foremost.

Sometimes it was hard being the captain.

The door to the shuttle bay opened, revealing the _Galileo_ safely back in her place, her doors opening for her passengers to disembark. Kirk strode up to offer his assistance just as a short, older man with wispy salt-and-pepper hair hopped down. The man’s olive-brown coveralls were looking rather the worse for wear, and the streaks of soot smudged across his face told their own story of the harrowing experience he had just been through. He smiled wanly at Kirk by way of greeting and held out a sooty hand.

“Captain Kirk? I’m Captain Arthur Roberts of the _Old Reliable_. I just wanted to thank you for your extremely timely assistance. If there’s anything at all that me and mine can do for you, please don’t hesitate to ask.”

Kirk smiled back, genuinely touched by the offer. “Well, it’s all in a day’s work, Captain Roberts. I’m glad we were able to help. Please, don’t _you_ hesitate to let me know if there’s anything else that myself or my crew can do for you - oh.”

The next passenger to disembark was clearly not human. Everything, from her complicated coiffure of silvery braids, to the pointed ears and gracefully slanted eyebrows marked her immediately and distinctly as _Vulcan_. One of her eyebrows lifted, quizzical and haughty, when she saw Kirk staring at her open mouthed. It was a gesture so very reminiscent of Spock that it made Kirk’s chest hurt. He snapped his mouth shut, his cheeks burning, as the Vulcan stepped gracefully down, the long skirts of her dark grey dress swirling about her.

“Ah, Captain Kirk, this is T’Mar - a trader in kevas and trillium who accepted a berth with us.”

Kirk got his hand up in a passable impression of a _Ta’al_ (the product of many long hours of patient instruction by Spock). If the Vulcan was surprised, she didn’t show it in any outward manner other than a slight tilting of her head. “Greetings, Trader T’Mar. I am very glad that you’re here - there is a matter upon which we could desperately use the insight of a Vulcan.”

The Vulcan woman inclined her head deferentially, her hands clasped in front of her. “It is agreeable to me to be of service where I can, Captain Kirk. Please tell me how I can assist.”

Kirk sought for the words to explain, and came up empty. “It might be best if I show you? It is in regards to my first officer - who is also the _Enterprise’s_ science officer- Commander Spock. He is in Sickbay. Ah - you’re welcome to come too, Captain Roberts. You’re injured crew members will be brought there directly.”

Captain Roberts and Trader T’Mar exchanged an enquiring glance, then followed Kirk as he led the way to Sickbay.

**Author's Note:**

> Yep, seems I sure do like Ion Storms and Transporter Accidents.
> 
> Oh, and Gamma Trianguli VI and it's associated poison barbs are, of course, from the TOS Season 2 Episode 'The Apple'.


End file.
